One of the most striking sentences in this document comes on page five. Here the Swiss football administrator informs readers that under his stewardship, UEFA’s revenues have grown from €5 billion (£4 billion/$5.5 billion) over the 2006-2010 cycle to over €12 billion (£9 billion/$13 billion) in 2014-2018.

Compare that with FIFA’s record of $4.19 billion (£2.9 billion/€3.8 billion) of total revenue in 2007-2010, $5.72 billion (£4 billion/€5.2 billion) in 2011-2014 and perhaps, if they are lucky, something like $7 billion (£5 billion/€6.5 billion) in 2015-2018.

Judged by aggregate or trend, there can be no doubting which of the two bodies is now the more potent money machine.

The Champions League, moreover, provides UEFA with a money-spinning property every year – not to mention a direct, mutually beneficial link with the world’s richest and most powerful clubs.

FIFA, by contrast, continues to carry almost all its financial eggs in the single, admittedly opulent, basket of the World Cup, a basket that takes four years to weave.

To have any chance of winning this five-horse race in which South Africa’s Tokyo Sexwale and Frenchman Jérôme Champagne are the other runners, Infantino must convince non-European voters that he would not simply be UEFA’s man in Zurich.

That is why, if I were a non-European National Association head, my first question to him would be who is funding his campaign?

I can see a fair bit in the manifesto for UEFA, though not exclusively UEFA, to like.

A 40-team World Cup would finesse pressure for the number of European sides in a 32-team tournament to be cut.

Infantino even emphasises that only three additional playing days would be needed, “so no impact on the international match calendar” – a comment which, I would think, would be of more interest to clubs, players and organisers of non-FIFA competitions than the current electorate.

The inclusion of independent members in FIFA committees would likely bring into the world governing body’s decision-making machinery representatives of some of the top European clubs and the top Europe-based players.

He may be hoping that a promise of substantially increased development payments acts to counter possible reservations among the electorate regarding the extent of European influence in an Infantino-led FIFA.

He certainly appears to be envisaging opening the sluice-gates much wider than their current setting, arguing that FIFA “should easily be able to ear-mark at least 50 per cent of its income for direct distribution to its member associations for football development projects”.

This compares with less than 20 per cent allocated to development projects under the 2015-2018 budget when it became public in March 2014.

It is the easiest thing in the world though for Presidential contenders to promise to channel extra FIFA funds to the electorate’s cherished development projects. No one candidate can convincingly claim it as a USP; they can simply vie to outbid each other.

It is not, for all that, inevitable that election of a European FIFA President would stack the deck of world football unduly in wealthy Europe’s favour.

We have just, after all, witnessed 18 years of a FIFA Presidency that actively championed other regions of the world, even though the President in question, Sepp Blatter, was born just nine kilometres away from Infantino’s home-town in Switzerland.

One should equally acknowledge, however, that Blatter’s route to the top-seat was via FIFA itself, not UEFA.

If this were politics politics rather than sports politics, one might at least anticipate that a President who acquires a reputation for favouring his home jurisdiction would periodically modify this stance at re-election time.

History teaches us, however, that Presidential elections are pretty low-risk affairs for incumbent Presidents of International Sports Federations: they rarely lose.

This is why term-limits in sports bodies are indispensable.

Turning to Rwanda, the disagreement over a memorandum of understanding (MoU) on football development between the African Football Confederation (CAF) and the Asian Football Confederation (AFC) depressed me for the way it suggested that, for all FIFA’s current problems, old school football politics was alive and kicking.

I think Prince Ali went way over the top with his claim that the timing of the MoU looked like a “blatant attempt” by his rival Shaikh Salman, the AFC President, to “engineer a bloc vote”.

At the same time, given the modest impact that the move will probably have on the eventual scale of Shaikh Salman’s African support, how difficult would it have been to remove any chance of misinterpretation, or of putting a new dent in FIFA’s battered image, by postponing the signing for a couple of months?

No, I’m afraid this struck me as an error of judgement by Team Salman, going some way to cancelling out the positive impression created by his earlier campaign platform.

I doubt it will have much of an impact on the all-important outcome of the February 26 vote.

But it was a trifle disconcerting; there are few things we require more of our sports leaders in the current climate than good judgement.